


Sweet Music Playing In The Dark

by Meduseld



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Insomnia, Lullabies, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meduseld/pseuds/Meduseld
Summary: This time, Jaskier sings him to sleep.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 205
Collections: Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	Sweet Music Playing In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=73389#cmt73389) on the Witcher Kink Meme.

Geralt hasn’t slept properly in a month and a half when Jaskier suggests it.

Half-joking but wary. Geralt just growls. It’s what he does.

“Oh come on” Jaskier says. “It’s a better idea than seeking a djinn” he adds, eyes widening like he didn’t mean to let that slip.

Geralt winces. It’s still painful. Raw. Jaskier could have died, and it would have been his fault.

The way it could have been all of the times since they’ve been riding together. Since Filavandrel on down.

There are times when Geralt is tempted to leave him, abandon him in the night like the runt of the litter, a too skinny pup that will never live to be full grown.

Most people look at those things with pity. Geralt tries to tuck them under his cloak when no one is looking.

“Wouldn’t work” he says as gruffly as he can. He’s heard Jaskier sing too often, after all, even when he’s facing down a foe twice as hulking and menacing as he is.

Jaskier’s voice is like Jaskier himself, no separating them. And it’s not like he can admit that he really does find Jaskier’s presence comforting.

“You won’t know that until you try” Jaskier says, needling, in the tone that usually, eventually, gets him what he wants.

The way he says _please, harder, I can take it_ and _Of course I’ll stay out of your way, I know that thing is dangerous_ and _Right there, there!_

He hasn’t heard it in a while, not since Jaskier was sure his voice was healed and he could look Geralt in the eye again.

He hasn’t seen the sorceress yet, isn’t sure he wants to. Can’t forget her eyes or how she smells.

Geralt does what he always does when he doesn’t know what to say. He grunts and turns away.

He can almost feel Jaskier beaming behind him. Because he knows that when it comes to Geralt, somehow he always manages to get his way.

It’s still two days before Geralt gives in fully, exhausted and bruised, another kikimora dead and a grateful innkeeper giving them a good room.

Even after all that, both of them barely keeping their eyes open, Geralt can’t sleep.

Not even when Jaskier rubs chamomile somewhere sore and then spends the better part of an hour writhing in Geralt’s lap, panting and smiling. Like Geralt’s forgiven. Like he could be.

No fear when he stretches out next to Geralt, naked and vulnerable.

Even with that, Geralt is awake.

Not sleeping even with Jaskier’s soft breath whuffing in his ear, beautiful in sleep, washed in the blue light of the moon.

You can barely see the scar, curling soft and silver near the hollow of his throat. Whatever else can be said of her, Yennefer knows her craft.

He turns back to the ceiling, the faces he makes in the whorls of the wood. Vesemir. Eskel, the lines making the scars on his face. Calanthe. Pavetta, lovely and scared. A thousand maybe faces that could belong to her child.

Apparently he’s not sleeping hard enough to wake Jaskier, no matter how strenuous the earlier exercise. Or later rowdy singing of his deeds for the inn’s patrons.

“Geralt?” he mumbles into his shoulder, before pulling himself up to look at him. 

Jaskier really is beautiful in this light. Every light, if Geralt is honest. He tries not to think of it.

“I’m alright. Go back to sleep” he rumbles gruffly. He doesn’t mean it. He’s just so tired, so far from rest.

Jaskier hums lowly against his chest, and for a moment Geralt thinks he really has fallen asleep.

“ _There is a young herdsman, who lives on the plains”_ he sings quietly, voice rising and falling like a wave.

 _“His horse and his goats are his only companions”_ he continues and Geralt is about to shush him, to tell him to stop but his eyes start to slip shut.

He knows the place Jaskier is describing. The blue mountains that loom over it, frosted with snow. Geralt took him there.

He’s changing the words, taking them out of it. Like a story, meant for bedtime.

He loses track of the time. Of himself. The last thing he can hold his mind to is the next song he sings. Or maybe the third. Or fifth.

_There is a song that they sing of their home in the sky…_

Then Geralt knows nothing but the twilight land of sleep.

When he wakes, feeling more rested than he has in decades, the light is golden through the windowpane, putting them close to noon.

Jaskier is asleep on his back, his pulse thudding warm through his skin, alive on Geralt’s cheek, pressed right above Jaskier’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Look by now you know how I do, it’s a [Hozier lyric](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJ9IX4zgyLs) (which is actually referencing [two other songs](https://genius.com/16267896)). Jaskier sings variants of [_Sweet Baby James_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iSkaEP2ZqbY) because I adore than song so I cut up the lyrics.


End file.
